From a Prince to a Pauper
by Emu
Summary: The tragic tale of Eileen Prince. Witness the epic fall and despair born of falling.


Emu: Hello, hello. This is my first venture into the realm of Harry Potter fanfiction. The story follows the struggles of Eileen Prince and focuses more on her later life rather than her life as a student. I may make references to and have anecdotes form her school days, but this will not be a retelling of life at Hogwarts. I appreciate all constructive criticism. And if you catch any grammatical errors, please let me know.

To fans of my other work: bear with me! I will try to update my other stuff soon. The transition to college has been rather hectic and I've never been very disciplined when it comes to my stories. Anyways, sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Prologue: A Chance Meeting

Her hands were numb to the point where she began to wonder if they were still attached to the rest of her. Maybe they weren't hers at all and this body belonged to someone else. She'd be willing to believe that if it weren't for the fact that her compulsive shivers reminded her foggy mind that it remained encased by this slowly freezing shell. She hunched over on the park bench and stared somberly at the snow in front of her.

(Time shift)

"Well, this is quite the impressive resume," the plump head of the department for The Research and Development of Neurological Medical Potions said gruffly as he flipped through the papers in front of him. "You completed your internship at St. Mungo's under Mediwizard Thorton, correct?"

"Yes, sir. I even helped him in his research concerning the effects to the victim of prolonged application of mind-altering hexes, curses, and jinxes and how potions might be developed to reverse those effects." She sat up straighter in the hard-back wooden chair positioned in front of his extravagantly cluttered desk.

"Hmm. Yes, yes I see. And what exactly did your findings yield?" He twirled the right edge of his moustache.

"Well, we discovered that victims of such curses and the like suffered from short-term and long-term memory loss, had difficulty making decisions, experienced minor hallucinations and a deterioration of motor functions, and also were prone to intense mood-swings—all of these symptoms being dependent upon the length of time that the victim was held under the curse and the nature of the curse itself. We managed to concoct a potion that improved motor functions and stimulated long-term memory. However, we were unsuccessful in producing a stable potion to retrieve short-term memory and or one that would fully combat the changes in behavior. When I left Mediwizard Thorton, however, we had drawn up another draft of an earlier attempt that showed promise." Her eyes were alight with a deep intelligence and verve that seemed somewhat incongruous housed behind naturally dropping eyelids.

"And what if the victim had been subjected to more than one curse? What if he had been under, say, the Imperius curse and had then fallen prey to the Memory Charm?" He attempted to damper the intrigue that slipped into his voice and seem professionally indifferent.

"The damage to the brain would undoubtedly be more severe. Unfortunately, since no one has ever really researched such things—a fact I find shocking—we could only look at one thing at a time. It will be a while before the research on the effects of prolonged exposure to just one type of mind-altering curse is completed and longer still until potions are created to combat the specific effects." Her gaze was unwavering.

"Of course," he replied as he leaned further back into his chair. He briefly glanced back down at her resume. "And you also had an apprenticeship under Potion Master Belume right after you graduated from Hogwarts." She nodded slowly in the affirmative. "Tell me, why exactly didn't you continue down that path and become a Master yourself? Master Belume's recommendation is very flattering. The fact that you were approved for an apprenticeship without any formal post-secondary school instruction is itself very impressive."

She stiffened slightly. Her hands gripped themselves tightly in her lap. "I do believe that you already know the answer to that one, Mr. Ginny."

He stopped fussing with his moustache and allowed his hand to fall to the top of his desk. "Yes, I suppose I do, which brings me to the unfortunate business of informing you that I will not be able to hire you." He looked at her from over the rims of his small pair of spectacles perched atop his round nose. "It's not because you're not qualified—we both know that—and I really wish that I could hire you, but…"

"But the department is funded by the ministry," she finished for him. He nodded once and watched her carefully. She adamantly ignored his gaze, breaking eye contact for the first time since the start of the interview, and stared resolutely somewhere above his left shoulder. He heaved a sigh, his lips jutting outwards in sympathy.

"I _want_ to hire you, but I can't risk the loss of our funding. Have you tried submitting an application to a privately owned potions company?"

Her eyes swiveled coldly to meet his. "You and I both know that the ministry has influence in all of the major potion firms pertaining to research or medicine and that other companies would never hire me for fear of drawing ministry scrutiny," she said flatly, bitterly.

"What about searching for a position outside of the country…"

Her harsh bark of a laugh cut into his floundering advice. "Again, we both know that that's not an option. The ministry has seen to it that I cannot leave this country and even if I found a way to do so, they would be certain to pursue me. The only way I can avoid them constantly interfering in my life would be if I were to disappear."

He spared her a sad smile as he shook his head. Standing, he offered her his hand. "I am very sorry. It seems that we have allowed the ministry to bully us into submission as of late in return for their protection. This madness is sure to die down eventually. When it does, I will gladly speak on your behalf. In the meantime, I sincerely wish you the best of luck." He waited silently, his hand extended. She glared angrily. However, she knew that her current predicament was not of his design and had grown wearily accustomed to rejection. In truth, she had expected this. So, she calmly stood and grasped his hand in one steady shake before withdrawing it and turning to leave.

Pausing at the door, she inclined her head. "Thank you, sir, for your time and consideration." And then she left.

(End time shift)

No matter how hard she had tried, each and every interview ended the same: she was kindly, but firmly shown the door. No one would dare hire her. Never mind that she showed extreme potential for revolutionizing the role of potions in the medical field. Never mind that she was brilliant and more than willing to work her heart out for the sake of progressing research. Never mind that she only really wanted to find a way to help those people that the medical community deemed "irreparably damaged" and "beyond hope." Those things obviously didn't matter to _bureaucrats_.

She clenched her chattering teeth together, allowing her anger to well up and boil in her chest. A detached part of her mind realized that her magic was starting to crackle around her and was liable to lash out at whatever was unfortunate to be within it's reach at any second. And on some level, that felt _good._ She hadn't properly _exploded_ since…in truth, she wasn't entirely certain when the last time was that she'd been so overcome by emotion that her magic had turned feral.

_It's all well and good as long as those power-hungry simpletons have a fat scapegoat to slaughter. Blood and self-righteous "security measures" are bound to keep the deindividuated masses happy. And just in time for the next election too._

She embraced her anger and smiled wickedly at the thought of the destruction—small and insignificant though it may be—that her unrestricted magic would be sure to wreak. Abruptly, while her thoughts were busy decapitating the idiots responsible for her current situation, a rival emotion rushed up and threatened to overwhelm her fury.

_No! I want to be angry and break things, damn it! _ _I will not cry. I will NOT cry. _She shook her head, catching sight of the bottom edge of her frayed robes as she did so. The image of those worn threads that now replaced her long-forgotten luxurious robes of the past pushed her over the edge. Her spite and hatred were drowned in a torrent of hopelessness and grief as she buried her dirt streaked face into her shoddily gloved hands. Her magic sputtered and dissipated.

"Excuse me…miss? I think you dropped your…uh, stick."

She jerked upright to come face-to-face with the blurry outline of a young man with dark-brown shaggy hair. His extended right hand loosely gripped her wand. She sucked in a breath quickly and snatched it from him. _When and where in the world did I drop this? I must have gotten so cold that it just slipped from my fingers and not noticed._ She gently stroked the length of wood—13 inches of cherry wood with a splinter of a baku tusk as it's core.

"Wow. So, I guess that's pretty important to you, huh? When I first saw you drop it on the corner of Strop Avenue, I thought it was just a stick. Since it's so nicely polished and shaped though, I figured it might be more than that. Is it a family heirloom or something?" His voice was low and had a rough tinge to it.

"No, no it's not an heirloom. Not really. I…wait, you've been following me since Strop Avenue?" she asked incredulously and not somewhat suspiciously.

"Oh, well yeah," he replied and shuffled awkwardly. "I lost track of you for a while—after you crossed Juniper—so, I asked a couple of people if they'd seen you and managed to catch up." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"You've…gone out of your way to return what you thought was an ordinary stick?" She blinked slowly at him and tried to determine what ulterior motive he could possibly have. He certainly didn't look like a wizard. No robes or magical paraphernalia that she could see.

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed as her grip on her wand tightened.

"Beg pardon?"

"Why would you bother to do something like that?"

"I thought maybe that that thing was meaningful to you and that'd it'd the right thing to return it. I would go crazy if I dropped something like my wristwatch and lost it."

"And that's it? You did it out of the goodness of your heart?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid you've caught me. I was hoping that I would be able to persuade you to get some coffee with me, seeing as it's so chilly." He grinned charmingly—or at least what she assumed was supposed to be interpreted as charmingly—at her. "I'd buy, of course."

_What in the name of Merlin is coffee? _She frowned in consternation. _The ministry wouldn't make this…this coffee up and send this man to fool me. It's too elaborate. Still… _

She whipped her wand up and pointed it at the dead center of the man's forehead. She smirked in a deranged manner and calculatingly slowly started to say, "Avada Kedav…" But the man's only reaction was to stare at her in bafflement.

_Hmmm. I guess he really is just a muggle. Any wizard would have immediately grabbed for his wand. Or panicked. Or…well, run away or something!_

"Uh, does that mean yes? Or is that some sort of odd way of hinting to me that I should bugger off?"

She sighed as she carefully placed her wand in a narrow pocket inside her robe's sleeve. Glancing back up at the expectant man in front of her, she snorted and shook her head. _What the heck. Might as well see what this coffee is. I've never really explored the muggle world. Could be an enlightening experience. _

"Okay. Let's go get some coffee."

"Really?" She nodded. "I know this great little shop. It's not too far from here and they have the best sandwiches I've ever tasted. Oh! Here." He hastily unraveled the fluffy red scarf encircling his neck and offered it to her. "You look cold," he said by way of explanation. She cautiously accepted it and wrapped it loosely around her own neck. Surprisingly, it immediately warmed her and she snuggled deeper into it until it covered her chin. He held his hand out to her.

"_**The only way I can avoid them constantly interfering in my life would be if I were to disappear." **_

"…_**to disappear."**_

Here was her chance to do just that. A witch living in the muggle world was as good as nonexistent to the ministry. She smiled softly—although the man couldn't see it with his scarf obscuring her face—and gratefully reached out to grasp his hand. He hefted her upright form the bench.

"My name's Tobias, by the way. Tobias Snape."

"Eileen Prince," she replied as he led her away from the cold.

End Prologue

Emu: Soooooo. That thar's the prologue. M'sorry it came off as being a bit cheesy or melodramatic. Every time I try to write something serious, it comes off a bit soap opera-ish.

Now for some notes:

I choose the cherry wood to be the wood for Eileen's wand for three reasons: One, the cherry wood is described as representing beauty, melancholy, and graceful resignation, which I think fit Eileen

A baku is a mythological beast that Japan borrowed and adapted from China. It devours dreams and is called upon to rid people of their nightmares. It also feeds on plagues and other forms of illness. I imagine that Eileen's family has some Asian in it somewhere. The magical community of England is only so large, so I bet some of the pure blood families married pure bloods from other nations. I may mention this again in a later chapter and work to incorporate it into the story. If you want to see what one looks like go here: www(dot)obakemono(dot)com/obake/baku/. This website also offers information on a variety of other Japanese mythological beings. Oh, but please bear in mind that there is no set image of what a baku looks like. I'd imagine it to look a little less aggressive and with a less pronounced trunk, similar to an ant-eater or tapir.

I probably won't be updating this for a while. I had an idea of where I wanted to take this when I started to write it, but I went to bed after writing the first part and literally dreamed up and entirely different path for it. I'm completely torn because both ideas I think would be good, but the new idea would greatly alter the personalities that I interpreted of the characters and assign a new villain to the story. So eh, I'll have to bounce some ideas off of my two buddies and see where it goes.


End file.
